


The Pleasure Games

by A Barrel of Bunnies (LovelyAche)



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Humor, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Parody, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyAche/pseuds/A%20Barrel%20of%20Bunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pleasure Games, where weapons are more for pleasure and less for pain, that is unless you enjoy the pain... Several pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from ff.net
> 
> "Please review! We bunnies love constructive criticism, so if if you like the story please let us know why and if you think it needs work, please also let us know why. Hope you enjoy the story & Thanks!"

The anthem blares across the Districts of Panem in unison. Twelve, eleven, ten... it's a countdown and one too loud at that; the sound blasting through every District's Justice Plaza is entirely too acute and practically an eardrum destroyer at that.

Each of the Twelve Districts differ on the exact procedures. Some of the crowds react differently to the heat, though what goes down ends up being the same every single year.

Although there are several members of the crowd which have already fainted, some whose bodies have been trampled to death, and many others sporting intense ear bleeding, neither these many factors seem to upset the hundreds, if not thousands of citizens who have gathered to bear witness to yet another year of the Pleasure Games. Even if they hadn't been forced to converge there at the crack of dawn, several hours before the ceremonies' start, no one would have wanted to miss it. After all, the winners are coveted for their sexual experience and the losers, well, they tend to make the perfect slaves, beat down and shamed in no excess.

The counting reaches zero with a shrill, and silence falls amongst the masses. As last year, and the year before, it happens just in time for the official event to start. The morning coolness has long since gone by and it's now extremely warm outside, with the sun glistening sickly atop the cloudless sky. The star is nothing more than white dot in the vast blue but an oppressively sweltering hot one at that. It spreads its tendrils everywhere, heating the world up to a boil. Both the heat and the concentration of people intensify the stench: of blood and sweat and tears. It's too strong, worsened by the perfect weather, and overpowers each and every nose within a large radius.

Perhaps that is the reason for no Capitol officials to be found anywhere nearby the Districts during this fateful day. After all, in spite of the many peacekeepers swarming through the premises like a cluster of locusts, confusion reigns, and perhaps it's due to the tang of blood and death wafting through the air, because many of the District's crowds start to grow uneasy, irritable.

Somewhere in District three, one of the primly dressed peacekeepers has a hole practically punched through his jaw by a large man, whose fist is impatient for the games. A fight breaks out and instantly, the whole of three seems to have erupted in uproar. Screams can be heard from every direction and the scent of smoke weighs down on its citizens. However, all of that is forgotten as, after couple seconds of intense white noise, a voice blasts through the muggy heat, carried by the sluggish breeze which rolls back and forth across the country.

"And on the very first day of Spring, to make up for the sins, the carnal viciousness of our ancestors, the Capitol has established the Pleasure Games. In them a randomly drawn group of 24 players - two from each of the 12 Districts - shall be given the chance to shine in their quest to reach the highest peak of pleasure, or to fail and lose its privilege. For the winner will be granted the right to mate with his or hers chosen and the losers shall be cut aside to never experience anything remotely sexual again."

Someone, a large boned woman screams an obscene string of expletives from among the crowd from District Eight. She steps forward and the people part for her, like a sea.

"Yes..." The voice clicks, androgynous and metallic. It sounds almost bored now, very un-anthem-like and there's emotion hidden somewhere in it, maybe annoyance at this minor setback. "Despite last year's complaints, castration is still in place as standard punishment method for the losers. Deal with it, it's not likely to change."

The woman screeches something which sounds close to "You bastards, my son! What have you done to him is not natural!" And continues on shouting mindless drivel even as she is dragged aside by a pair of peacekeepers, twitching and convulsing in the men's arms.

"Anyway," It continues, very nonchalant. After a moment the citizens shrink back from the blaring loud boomboxes which carry the voice onward. A few more fall flat on their asses from the sound-induced headache and the blistering heat. "As usual, killing, wounding or otherwise threatening another Tribute before or during the games is strictly forbidden. The weapons you choose shall not be ones of torture but bliss. And that's all there is to say. So let the 74th Pleasure Games take start! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The crowd explodes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Since this probably will go through some of you here's a little explanation of the reaping (aka juicing) process in the Pleasure Games: Citizens between eighteen and twenty five years old (cannot stress this enough)are chosen by a council of gamemakers. It's not a luck based draw like in the actual Hunger Games. Which leads me to point out that some of you mentioned the little outline for the games we presented in the Prologue is very different from the canon material. Yes, it is. Besides the concept of the game, some geographic similarities (Districts, Capitol, etc. they all exist) and having the same characters, this fic is not going to be similar to the Hunger Games, at all. :P It's AU guys.
> 
> Furthermore, Katniss and Peeta are both 20 and Prim is 18.
> 
> Lots of strong content down below, blah blah. Be warned!
> 
> Sure to Read and Review! Bunnies LOVE reviews!

I set my father's ancient hunting bow down beside me on the little craggy table and plop down by the nearest chair, quickly stepping off my clothes and into the ones I've earlier prepared. There's a slightly dingy rag in a chipped bowl of water awaiting my return and quickly I dab away the day's grime. I shift in my seat. Knowing my luck I'll end up with a splinter stuck in my buttocks from the movement. Sighing, I rub a mud stained palm against my cheek, pensieve, before scrubbing it away.

My green eyes drift over the warped table top. Today's bounty is not a particularly good one, not bad whereas not incredible either. I shake a stiff, very dead squirrel on the table; from the way its ribcage sticks out, I can tell that the poor thing was probably starving for a long time before I got to it. Not unlike many of us in District Twelve, I muse. I found it barely alive, trying to crawl through some bush berries. A well placed arrow took care of the rest. Mercy killing is certainly not what led me to end its life and by tonight it'll be the centerpiece of some family's fancy dinner. Because here in Twelve, an anorexic squirrel equals luxury.

Black hair falls over my face with the movement. Oh, how I hate mine. It is a wiry jungle and taming it is nearly impossible. Reminded of how necessary it is, I pull a little dry bone brush from one of the cupboards and try to make up with it. Slow strokes seldom work, but my I find myself paying complete attention to the task at hand. My fingers part it in strands and I go over each one, individually smoothing it down as well as possible. I look into the murky water I used to wash, staring at my reflection for a moment. -I look...carnal, almost prettily vicious.

"...and may the odds be ever in your favour."

The words ring through my ears with the fury of a tornado, their shrillness nearly causing my blood to curdle within my veins. A strange feeling settles at the pitch of my stomach. I'm late! I should've been ready almost half an hour ago and I have almost forgotten that today is the day! The day in which a pair of unlucky bastards gets chosen to participate in the Pleasure Games. The day that my sister may end up dead for her stupidity.

Sighing wearily under my breath, I turn my face towards the makeshift excuse for a television screen, more out of having nothing to do, than actually wanting to watch it, as I quickly run the brush over my scalp, over and over. It's not working, I know my hair looks like its been used as a rat's nest, beastly.

I see all of the event's beginning being streamed from the old dilapidated room at my mother's house. A piece of wallpaper cracks and falls to the floor as I watch, fluttering before my eyes. On the screen, I see what appear to be masses of ants moving in the distance. If I don't hurry, I'll be in so much trouble. The citizens have started gathering. My whole body quivers and tenses at the screams as well as the smug expression which settled on several of the peacekeeper's faces. Sure, I wonder what they'd had to bribe the chief officer to be given the opportunity to work, today.

I'm late too late, shoving my still dirty feet into slightly too large boots. "Prim!" I shout, hurriedly tossing the appliance aside, causing it to topple off the table with a hollow sound, buzzing, and all but forgetting about the damned squirrel.

"Yes! I'm coming, just getting dressed!" she calls back to me from across the house. In spite of the distance, these flimsy wooden walls are barely thick enough to hold her voice, or tone its pitch down to a more bearable sound.

"Prim!" She was dressed when I left this morning, which can only point to one thing. I run to the back of our shack, and groan, quivering in half contained rage, "Oh God," Staring at the backside of Wit, our less than attractive seventeen year old neighbor, my frustration tipped the scale, "You screwed him? As if you don't have enough problems Prim!" Is she insane? I'm starting to think so! Insane and wishing herself dead!

Although Wit can't see me from his position leaning over the makeshift excuse for a bed that my father crafted, one too many years ago. The way his shoulder-blades roll backwards tell me that he can probably feel my furious gaze on him. I don't care when he dashes off, straight out the house, wearing nothing but a ragged pair of pants, looking deceptively ashamed of himself with his head hanging low. Good riddance.

I turn back to prim. She licks her chipped fingernail, a feeble attempt at looking fancy, and twirls it in the air, "I'm already pregnant Katniss, might as well have some fun while I'm..." Her blue eyes shaded darker with a watery gloss, "While I'm still alive at least."

"Oh stop it Prim, they won't pick you," - I hope anyway, for some reason men flock to her like bees to nectar, "C'mon, we are running late." I'm getting anxious standing here waiting for her to get a move on, or possibly another snaggle toothed grinding horne dog to pop out of hiding beneath her skirt...

For a moment I am thinking she will cry, her eyes are watering something fierce and she scowls, "What, you don't think I'm pretty enough?" God, her stupid hormones drive me completely insane, we are trying to keep her from being noticed, keep her and her bastard child alive, and she's pouting and crying about whether or not she's pretty enough to be chosen...and consequently killed.

"Prim, get a grip on the water works, we've no time for them. No time at all!" I lunge forward and stomp across the room in a single stride. My boots make a loud racket, being forced down so aggressively on the wooden planks forming the floor beneath my feet, which rattle from the pressure. I've never been able to afford better, but the pair of old grey boots is now a great aid. It contrasts wildly with my dress and it will, at least, decrease my chances of being chosen.

Prim tries to squirm away from my grip when I catch her wrist. "No. Come on. It'll be okay." I'm trying to sound soothing, but it comes off more as an exasperated hiss than anything else, to my own ears.

I'm not sure how or why, but she ends up acquiescing to my less patient pleas. I don't always appreciate it, but lately, it seems like sternness is the only way of dealing with her.

Before a moment has gone by, we've practically flown off the little shack and force our legs to move across a labyrinth of houses, which twist and turn with the sinuosity of a serpent. My blond sister just about plops down, face first on the floor as she slides by a particularly violent turn and I nearly laugh. This one would've been for the stress she insists on causing me.

We aren't the only stragglers rushing toward the masses, and for that I am thankful.

"Just in time." She cries in my ear as we arrive at the large plaza, "To my death, that is!" It's like she has metamorphosed on the way. Instead of the smug, ditzy confidence she usually exudes, there's this meek pessimism.

I ignore her, watching intently as every citizen between eighteen and twenty-five years old fills in the space around me. It's extremely crowded and the stink of sweat as well as coal fills my nostrils. Some are stark naked, hoping to be chosen, though most of use are fully clothed, hoping to bypass the official's attentions.

Billowing silk cloaked men and women extend upon us all like ghosts in a graveyard full of zombies. We all know why they are here and we all know that there is nothing we can do to stop it. Prim stands at my side with her hand clenched tight in mine, our fingers interlocked.

Her dress is loose to hide the slightly protruding bun in her oven, it should never have happened...if they find out she'll die. We are given meds to prevent fertility, but Prim, being the carefree trollop she is, never could remember to take hers.

"What if they pick me Katniss?" She squeezes my hand hard, whispering under her breath, as we watch the figures moving through the crowd. There's soot on her sloped nose and I wipe it away with my free hand.

"They won't." I give her a stony gaze, trying to pour my strength through to her, but her plush bottom lip quivers.

I can see it in her eyes, she wants to reply in some absurd manner. Fidgeting nervously, the hems of her skirt curl upwards, revealing a patch of rosy, flushed skin on her thighs. Her forelegs are bare, as are mine, though hers are slathered with semen and they seem to glisten, illuminated by the noon's strong sunlight. Usually we wouldn't bother with preparing ourselves like this, not with shaving and applying herbal creams to our skin so that it glows, or in her case...mixed sex fluids. Hairlessness is never a factor of importance in District 12 unless The Pleasure Games are afoot.

Prim looks desirable, even with soot marring her snow blond hair as it falls in a river over her shoulders, curling slightly atop her perky bust, and that in itself is a big, big problem.

"Stop that!" I try to hiss, though given the volume of bodies around us, I end up receiving a couple strangely endearing and just plain mocking glances from some of the girls around me.

She fingers my plain smock's frayed edge nervously, I deliberately wore something just as loose as she to keep attention off of us, off of her. There's a figure moving closer to us, easing through the mass of people, and Prim nearly starts hyperventilating next to me which only makes her swollen breasts look all the more delightful.

"Cut it out Prim!" Once again I seethe as quietly as possible and elbow her in the side.

Only feet away the official takes smooth slow steps in our direction. I can see his strong set face, his nose angled sharp as little strands of blond hair fall to his forehead. He looks from Prim to me and back again before stepping forward to cup both our faces. I spit in his face as Prim only trembles...

He laughs haughtily, full and baritone, squeezing Prim's chin, turning her face to look her hard in the eyes, "You seem more interested in these games than your sister deary..." I damn her sexual magnetism.

Her blue eyes grow wide and before I can't manage any sort of snarky smart mouthed comment, she screeches, her slender white finger pointing, damning, "She's a virgin! Betcha haven't had one of those in the games before!"

"Wha..."

Shocked, mortified...I'm speechless, so surprised by her quick betrayal to throw me to the lion's den. In an instant I feel his hands upon me, massaging my breasts and while I open my mouth to growl, I can only manage a throaty moan.

I'm glaring, scorching with anger, slapping his hands away as he drags me through the crowd. People are staring, appalled and jealous all at the same time. My wrist aches in his grip as I try to break free, and as if a wanting to tease me, he lets go.

For but a moment I think I'm free, that he's decided to pick some other girl from District Twelve, but instead, another figure's arms wrap around my small waist holding me tight as I try to claw and scratch my way free. I snarl and bite at them, angry.

Someone pulls a stark black blindfold over my eyes and a gag in my mouth to reduce the shrill sound of my screams. Harsh but soft hands run over my thighs and up my smock dress, its edges ragged in their hands as they jerk it over my head. Cool air washes over my bare nipples, and for but a moment, I wish I was from District one or even two so that I might have the luxury of a bra.

I kick at those trying to control me and someone grabs my boots off my feet, leaving me barenaked for a sea of eyes. No one... no one has ever seen my entirety before, not all at once, my breasts bounce lightly as my chest heaves, I'm nervous, slightly scared and starting to hyperventilate.

Dry and soot covered, the gag in my mouth steals away my saliva leaving my tongue swollen and hot. I'm trying not to weep as lips press soft against my chest, but I can feel the hot liquid pour over my cheekbones.

Cheers consume my ears, damning, all of them either pissed or relieved, the loudness pounds like a hammer in my onyx hair covered skull. It's a tempest, or maybe a hurricane of sound crashing through my chest. And there's a grunt to my left, the platform I'm standing on rattles and I realize it must be the other tribute being juiced just as I.

I immediately recognize the voice as he shouts, "Let go of me! I won't struggle, just let go!" It's Peeta. I know him, and I've trained with him the few times we've been allowed.

A body shuffles, probably Peeta's and he rises, his bare arm brushing mine and the tiny hairs stand at attention. A third moves between us, clocked, I can feel the fabric tickling my toes, "Why don't we give the little minx her first orgasm Mister Blue Eyes."

His arm starts to tremble and at first he starts to say no, but I whisper, pleading, "Please Peeta, it's better for me that it's you and not them." I've forgotten about the gag in my mouth, which garbles my words, but he seems to get the picture I'm painting. Though I must say, this would not be my first orgasm in the least, virgin I may be - but innocent, I think not. Peeta shivered, the tale tale signs of his distaste for the feminine form probably kept a scowl on his face.

He never could get an erection from a womanly figure, but he is rather skilled with his tongue.

"Fine." I envision the clenched set of his smooth square jaw, his bright sapphire eyes hardened with resolve, and soon I purr, his hands on the small of my back as he beckons me to the ground. Thousands of eyes are on us, I'm sure of it as their voices ebb and flow like a sea around us.

I manage to tune them out to a dull hum in my ears, trying to focus only on the man laying me down. I gasp for air as he rips the gag from my mouth, my swollen dry tongue ever so grateful, but he leaves my blindfold in place. His fingers brush me in small caresses, over my shoulders and through the valley of my breasts, the shallow dip of my hip bones. He sends pricks of delight over my skin.

There's an anxiety between us, it always has been there, because well...though Peeta hasn't exactly shouted it to the rooftops, I know he's gay. - it's like a sheet hanging in between our naked bodies, separating us though we are flesh on flesh, his flaccid penis brushes over my thigh.

His lips are soft and supple, warm and almost overly plump as they rain kisses over my breasts, his fingers are kneading my voluptuous mounds in sinful caresses, and I can feel myself slickening as his tongue darts out, teasing my left nipple by only touching the slightly purple areola.

Slightly furred legs tangle with mine for a moment, before he pulls my knees apart with his. I'm so excited, even though I know he isn't enjoying it as much as I...this is something I can not help, this anticipation is solid and scorching and I groan as his mouth suckles my taut desirous nipple.

He trails lower, and cool air sends a zing of pleasure straight through my spine. My breast is wet with his saliva and it feels intensely ambrosial. "Peetaaa mmmmore please," I want this, I want his mouth hot on my clit. My hunger is almost solid as it aches deep within, in the pit of my abdomen.

He spreads the petals of my sex with his perfectly smooth fingers, they are creamy despite the district we live in, his hands are those of a district one God. My blood starts to boil. The tip of his finger twirls over my little bundle of nerves and I clench my teeth to hold back a hiss, "Just do it Peeta...make me cum!" I hate this foreplay, it's been so long for me, so long since the last time I gave myself pleasure and so long since I've last trained...

He grunts, but follows my command, I can feel the loose tips of his hair on my thighs, tickling me with excitement. And his lips, so full and slick with his drool, brush my labia and I groan, writhing, my legs squirming as he locks them in place with his knees.

"Don't move," His voice is rough, his words hot against my clit and then - "OH!" I'm crying out, his tongue circling me bead, running in scorching motions and I'm dying to watch him, dying for this blindfold off and away.

I groan for him, let him pull such wicked sounds from my throat. For the moment, I'm entirely at his mercy, and he is, "Oh God!" Relentless.

A finger trails to my thirsty hole, and he pumps it swiftly into the wet entrance of my vagina. My muscles contract blissfully, and I groan. This...this feeling is entirely new for me, I've never...he's never put his fingers inside of me before... his digit eases in and out, rubbing and brushing little bits of me that I never knew could feel so delectable.

I'm making nonsensical sounds, low in my throat. My legs don't remain still as he's demanded, but he doesn't seem to mind them tangled around his skull.

I'm clawing at the cold wood beneath me, my nerves on fire, crazed in a frenzy. "Ohhhhmmmmm," I groan, my toes curling in ecstasy as he builds such divine pleasure right between my thighs. I see white, blinding white as my back arches, my cream is so close to its peak... and "Oh God!" He's inserts another finger into my weeping core, but this one brushes something dangerous and painful, but pulls away quick as my insides twitch and clamp down on the intruding digits. "Ahhh so...sooo clooose!"

His tongue flicks as his fingers pump and twist, my legs shaking, and my back arches to a fine V, "Peeta! Oh!" I come hard, boiling and creamy over his twin fingers. He tastes me and keeps me moaning and whimpering, my nerves on hell's fire. Licking my sweet essence, he drinks me all up.

I've been positively juiced.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Clove is 18. Cato is 22.
> 
> As usual, there's strong content down below. Be warned for the monsters which lurk these pages...

Clove's POV.

Stupidly dull grey walls stretch around me in every direction. It's still dim outside, so I focus on the window located by my left shoulder. Weren't this two and the scenario outside would be almost picturesque. Pollution makes sure its not. The moon hangs low in the dirty half-assed excuse for a 'sky'. Having grown here, I should be used to it already: to the faint orange phosphorescence emanating from the lamps below, in the city, and streaking towards the sky. Despite the perfect springtime weather, thanks to the color, it looks as if the horizon is pregnant with big, thick storm clouds, ready to erupt into vicious thunder and lightning.

Now that would be something fitting of these games everyone is tuning to watch, including me. A grin coats my lips and I run my tongue over them, smoothly. I can't wait. No one can. A faint sound reverberates through the distance and instantly I know that for some, it has already started. These idiotic sheep are probably quivering in the comfort of their homes, waiting in their beds for the official event to start. Today practically every citizen of the District has been discharged from work and... well, it's not a rule as much as it is public knowledge that they are forced to attend to the juicings. I don't really care one way or another.

I just will the minutes to go by faster, not slower! Alas, even now, that is a skill I do not possess. The clock seems to take in my exasperation and its pointer moves even more sluggish than moments earlier. It's appears to be sneering down at me. A minute trickles by and the tiny sprinkle of nervousness which has made its way across the pitch of my stomach gurgles onward, soundly. Too loud.

Though not as annoying as the way my bed creaks slightly under my weight as I sit down and draw my knees close, against my chest. Due to the influx of light streaming from outside, more steadily now, my naked limbs appear to glisten as I stare down at them. They're perfectly smooth, not one single hair adorns my twitching muscles. Hairlessness is not a big concern around here, not when most inhabitants are put to do hard work every single day... today, however, is a special occasion, one that will hopefully get me to rise the hell out of this place.

Another glance tells me that the sun is just about rising. Its rays curl against the horizon and stretch outwards. There's a sickly yellowish color to the sky now.

Some sort of mechanical rattle, an alarm echoes through the room and I rise to my feet before I have the time to consciously order my limbs to move. I stand in place for only a second before springing forward with thrill that bubbles deep at the pitch of my stomach. This will be my first time going through the whole procedure, but I don't hesitate. I tiptoe down the dark stone corridor, I'm already excited just from pure anticipation which tingles between my inner thighs.

The soft breeze caresses my chest as I step outside the building, with a door falling shut behind my back. Its chill sends a faint ripple of electricity up my spine, it causes my nipples to harden, pink standing stark against the light brown areola, completely bare against the wind which caresses me. Being nude is, obviously, not a requirement. The Capitol would probably never allow for such a thing, but almost every young adult wants to show off the body they'd worked so hard for. Training is intense and that's why most of the victors come from around these parts.

Giggling, a group of girls step past me. Their luscious bouncing racks brush my arm and I turn to glare, just in time to catch a toothy white smile from one of them. I growl and a perky, curvy blonde flips me the bird, like I actually do give a shit about that. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes, irritated, at her. She's not a good contender and I'm sure that she won't be the one chosen. What kind of skills can a bimbo like this have? Only her appetizing forms are of any threat to me.

It's with a bitter tang of jealousy swirling across the tip of my tongue, coating the insides of my cheeks with venom that I watch her plump shapely thighs as she walks. Her body moves with a sinuosity that is unknown to me. I am not that soft, and I've never wanted to be. It doesn't matter. I still know for certain she won't get what is rightfully mine.

Although some other Districts are all about physically appraising the contenders, here in Two, the male and female participants have long since been chosen. Probably months ago, I'd wager. After all, it's not without reason, not for nothing that we go through so many silly minor contests and training. I've won almost every single one of these preliminary exams, so my chances are pretty damn good... along with my training partner.

For a moment, I am stupidly lost in thought, so much so that I barely caught the announcement which has started to ring across the plaza.

"Clove!" Only when someone, or something calls my name do I snap out of it. I whip my head around so fast that the blood lingers heavy in the back of my skull. A long cloaked figure is hovering on a large metallic stand a couple yards away from me. The vestment is too loose to discern its gender, but from its voice, I guess it's probably a man. I try to step forward but find it an impossible task to accomplish. A number of sweat slickened bodies close the way, making it impossible for me to nudge closer. Despite the morning's weather, the heat radiating off the mass is overpowering and my nostrils wrinkle at it.

"That's me." I knew it. I don't jump in the air from the joy sweeping through me, but I damn feel it like a cool breeze blowing through my nerves. I have been chosen and now I am one step closer to winning these Games. Which I know for certain I will. There's no time or mental space for hesitation, and I don't. I beam enthusiastically, fake, as the crowd parts around me like a river. Some areas are more difficult to cross, with the multitude of hopefuls forming a thick, nearly impenetrable barrier. It takes me a fuckload lot longer than I had hoped, to cross through it, but besides a couple of gropes I come off relatively unscathed.

Some jealousy-laced gasps echo from all around me as I step forward and walk towards whom I'm now sure is one of the Gamemarkers, and I drink them up, feeling more exhilarated by the second. There's a number of peacekeepers trying to keep the people from trying to assault me me further but I don't quite bother with making their job easier and practically dance, rubbing against the crowd.

That is, until I see him. Cato's leaning against the nearest building's edge, arms firmly crossed around his stiff, built chest.

I watch the disgruntled, downright pissy expression which curls my training partner's lips downwards in a handsome but practically enraged scowl, as he seems to realize that he has not been picked for the Games, again. I scoff as the situation amuses me. After all, there are only three more chances for him. His ripped muscles twitch, and a little circle parts around him, separating him from the rest of the crowd of hopefuls. Oh, he's pissed, but he knows better than to move and force the council to pick him. Instead, he pushes his mouth together, his own way of telling me that when I come off these winners as a victor, he's going to do some very bad, very lewd things to me - things normal girls would run in terror from, but not me, he knows just what I like- and turns away from my sight.

For now, I am glad he is out of this. Because if anyone can, I am sure he's the only damn contender out there who'd be capable of demolishing me. And that would be with him in a good mood. I can more than imagine what he'd do to me right now. -The delightfully bloody images flashing through my mind are enough to make me slick between my thighs.

I don't, however, have any time to let them reel. Before I can comprehend what is actually happening, a palm curls against my shoulder, its digits clawing on to the my cool flesh. I'm not shoved away from the crowd as much as I am directed somewhere. There's no silence, a low murmur brews around me, interrupted only by a shrill, as the anthem continues to drudge on and on about something, spewing words I just can't understand. My heart rate is up tenfold, ramming inside my chest. I wonder who else got chosen as I'm pushed inside an extremely dark room.

For the second time in mere hours, I have been left in almost complete darkness.

I blink repeatedly. The silver metallic glint of chains is the the first thing that catches my eye.. I can barely make out the shape of the room, barely discern the vague outlines of objects, strewn across the floor. Carefully tiptoeing across the cool stone floor, I reach forward, towards a large cylindrical shaped item, which I can only hope is either a weapon or a device that will help me discern my surroundings better - because I just can't see it - when something screeches, high pitched, behind my back.

I realize, a moment too late, that the heavy door which I just walked past, has been slid closed. A loud click reverberates, echoing through the inky blackness, and I know its been locked as well. That I am locked here. It seems obvious that whoever these Gamemakers are supposed to be, they know perfectly well of what I am capable of. Despite not being As far my eyes can discern...

They seem to realize my talents will make for great television, I'm sure there's not many people interested in bdsm, and even less that only come when the divine pain is just right, so I don't understand this strategy. But I don't shy away from it either.

Smoothly, a grunt reaches my ear; its fluidness washes over me and leaves me eager for more. I turn my head to the sound and a red glow spills forth, lit around a man strapped tightly to a vertical board. He's blinded by a thick leather strap while his arms are in loose cuffs and his legs spread separately bound, displaying his semi-hard cock from in between soft brown curls.

I don't quite recognize him. If he's supposed to be the other contender chosen, then I'm at a loss. Do the Gamemakers want him to lose on purpose? Is this their intent? He doesn't appear to be anyone special. I'm sure of it. After all, I've trained with the best, and his face is not in any of my memories.

He groans throatily, about a yard or so away from me, and I watch his head shakes from side to side. The movement causes a few dark strands of dark curly to fall, plastered against the blindfold. He appears to have noticed my presence, because his voice cracks the mild silence between us.

"Cerik- that's... my name." Despite having done nothing to him yet, he seems to be already in a state of heightened arousal... or well, something. Probably been given drugs, I consider. Wouldn't be the first, nor the last. And here in Two, those things are seldom seen as a taboo, just another way of getting the audience to be drawn into what they will be watching.. Besides, that could make this juicing a hell of a lot more interesting. "Just... get it over with." He moans, and my resolve to make it good just shatters. To hell with that!

"Yeah well, Cerik?" One of my palms rises to caress the strong, firm muscle on the underside of his leg. He's probably as fit as my training partner, I have to at least give him that much leeway. "Don't tell me what the fuck to do. That won't work with me." I warn, wracking my nails against his skin. A couple of crimson beads erupt from where I've just scratched him. "Do you want this?" I take no time getting myself acquainted with his hot flesh. My tongue sweeps across his inner thigh, tasting the deliciously metallic blood. And without warning, I slide the spongy, blunt head of his shaft around my lips.

I squeeze my jaw around the flesh filling my mouth and liquid squirts everywhere. Vividly thick, bright red blood coats my swollen lips, his come trickles thickly with his blood down my chin and over my breasts. It's almost disappointing how quickly he comes for me, but now I know for sure he's on some sort of medication - something to make him ejaculate with any touch. I lift the round mounds with both my crimson covered hands, deftly I dip my chin, my tongue runs lasciviously across them and I bask on the bittersweet tang. The flavour is almost as delicious as the cacophony of screams and animalistic howls which crash against the side of my face.

Cerik's torso convulses over me, still held back by the loops tight around his wrists, I let go of my breasts, ending the tight painful constricting grip I had them in, and I bite along the rippling abs casing his organs. Teeth wounds along his skin have my legs trembling and I can't resist but to run a hand along my inner thigh, painting myself red with his brightly enticing blood.

There are cameras all around us, sponsors watching even now and I want to give them a good show, not to mention I've never been allowed to give fully into my sadistic whims until now.

His body is still shaking, trembling from his release, but it's no matter...I've not had my fill of him. His flesh twitches beneath my long sharp nails, I cut, tear into his flesh, the skin over his hips runs jagged and torn. I taste him, these delicious wounds, metallic and sweet at the same time, his flesh a base and the sauce his blood. I kiss him, probing the wounds with the tip of my tongue until he cries for me, groaning - the sound, hearty and male in my ears, rings. All the while I torture this man, my index finger runs slow circles over my clit, in easy motions and I moan against his ruined flesh, clawing my way to his now flaccid cock.

My lips are swollen and ache from so much kissing, biting, brushing, it's a pain I find deliriously warm and it makes the pleasure I roll over the nerves between my legs all the more intense. Wrinkled loose flesh enters my mouth, and I suckle his penis, rolling it over my teeth roughly as he moans, thrusting his hips. His bindings clink together in a delightful chime as I knick his flesh with my canines. This blood is fresh, warm and comforting to my tongue as I lull my pussy with my fingers brushing against my clit and slightly probing my weeping canal.

His cock has lost most of its feeling in my mouth, and I chew harder on the previously rock hard flesh. He's saying something I can barely understand. The sentences fall from his blue tinted lips in a flurry, crazed and wild they run, "God yes, oh god...mistress..." I bite deeper, feeling his appendage turn to mince between my teeth and he moans loud and delightfully, "God! Yes!" The cry is ground through clenched teeth, I doubt he knows just what I've done to his once quite glorious cock, but I don't care.

The blood seeping over his thighs is bringing me to fruition, I flick my finger in and out, roiling about in my vagina, my essence hotly mixing with his blood on my hands. The pumping motion isn't enough, and i cut the edge of my hole with my fingernail, wincing and groaning at the same time. I'm so close, but still... still not there.

Desperately I run my tongue over his wounded cock, and feeling must be coming back to him because he pants heavy and screams... and as his pain expands my pleasure builds and with his cries I come hot and heavy. My breasts feel as if they are on fire, scorching as I suck in breaths of air I hadn't realized I'd been denying.

My legs are numb and slightly wobbly as I stand in front of the main camera, licking many different fluids from my fingers.

"That was..." the announcer's voice cracks, "Quite impressive! Well done, Clove from District Two."

There's a wicked smile on my face and I know it must freak most of the viewers out, and that only forces my lips into a more twisted grin. I wipe the blood seeping through the corners of my mouth against my forearm, smudging gory crimson all the way up to my elbow, and wait for the Gamemakers to continue. I'm not sure of what to make of the silence, after all, it is outstanding they have not announced Cerik's participating in the games either. I've watched every recap or every juicing for the Pleasure Games, and just can't recall this level of speechlessness. For that matter, which game is this? I am not certain, and I honestly couldn't care less. I've probably won a sponsor or two.

For a minute, the only sound is a the heavy drip of my victim's blood, rushing slipping across the wooden platform and pattering onto the tiles beneath my feet. My heart beat runs almost erratically as I force my eyes from his tastily ravaged form. I'm not sure when they arrived, but there's a doctor shooting him up with something that shuts off his system. The screaming stops, and I hadn't even noticed the sound until it's no more.

"Unfortunately, due to this... setback, we cannot consciously allow for Cerik to participate in the Pleasure Games. In turn, a new contender has been chosen."

Octaves lower, down to a hissy whisper, the voice continues, and I realize it's meant only for my ears, "And try not to kill this one, will you? This one should be a bit harder to..." it coughs, losing its mechanical intonation and for a moment, sounding very real and definitely very human, " ...chew on."

I practically double up as a strident bout of laughter burst up my throat and falls off from my lips. Breathlessly, I clutch at my bloodied stomach and chortle harder, taking on huge guffaws of air in my lungs. I sound completely insane to my own ears, cackling loud and pitched. Maybe I am. A still very alive Cerik grunts weakly beside me as the doctors roll him away, and I don't even bother turning towards his wasted prick, after all I'm still shaking from the aftertroes of my climax.

The door screeches closed again and it's only then, with a heavy hot breath caressing my cheek, that I realize I haven't been left alone. Of course, I should know better already, but the last few minutes seem to have gone by in a flurry of sensation. My whole body throbs wonderfully and I almost leave my guard down. Just almost.

"Didn't think you'd get to face me?" Angry and predatory, a familiar voice sends zips of pleasure straight to my toes. A torch comes to life, shining fiercely in warm orange tones, and I can fully see him. His handsome face is barely inches from mine, eyes gleaming an extreme cyan shade, an expression of intense amusement curling his the corners of his mouth upward, barely touching his eyes. He's still pissed for not getting picked first, I can tell though I doubt our audience notices.

"Of course I did," I tease, smirking playfully as I swipe a digit across the velvety skin of his jaw, leaving a line of crimson. Usually there's short blond stubble adorning his features, but today? He feels as smooth as silk, and silk is best doused in ruby rivulets. "Are you going to show them how powerful you are? Because I'm pretty sure I already topped the ratings."

He's already hard, stroking his impressive cock right in front of me, rubbing the tip as a bead of precome slickens his grip. "I'm going to make you tremble, bitch." I don't know if he means it, but the expletive only causes the searing heat to coil harder, tighter like a wound snake inside my abdomen.

"Oh really? And just how will you do that?" Even though I know it's true, that his skills are expert, sinfully so, I can't resist the need to play this cat and mouse game.

"With your favorite pet."

Oh God, I should never have taunted him, someone, probably that pesky announcer has given him one of my favorite play things... a whip, almost a cat of nine tails but there is only one and it's tipped with a glowing ember stone that burns delightfully once hit against one's flesh. He twirls it in the air smiling wickedly. "It doesn't matter," I really want it, and I know he can see it plainly written in my lustful eyes, "You may make me come now Cato, but I'm still going to win the games."

"Yeah? Fair enough." Something dark, dangerous, flashes through his sapphire eyes and I feel my legs turn to jello. I've always liked him, he's always been such fun to play with despite his lack of response to my dark charms. For a moment I wish I could whip him with the scorching stone, but it's a fantasy that will only ever happen against his will. -And for me to throw him down and tie him up... A sudden chuckle bubbles from my chest at the thought, it'd never happen he's simply too strong. "You're letting your confidence get the best of you. You won't stand a chance."

I quiver when he touches me, at first.

His soft hands are rough in treatment, kneading my breasts hard, constricting them with a pressure I can only describe as intensely delicious, and when I fear my balloons will pop, he retracts, releasing me but shoves me down. The wooden floor meets my spine with an angry snarl and my back convulses, spasming up from the pain as I watch him stalk me from the other end up the room. There's a beast in him, I know it, his muscles move beneath his flesh like fluid, purely graceful, a deadly shadow lurking just below the surface.

It feels like steel in my ribs as he kicks me, rolling me to my back with his bare foot, "Is this what you want from me Clove?" His husky tone is deliciously endearing.

"Yes, god yes!" And it is, I need this treatment, I know it pains him inside to beat me down, he's not truly adept of these practices, but it's what I love and he does it so incredibly well, "Make me scream!"

"Don't worry, I will." He snarls, teeth gritting together as his heel connects violently against my ribcage. I roll onto my side, gasping for the oxygen which fails to grace my lungs. He's relentless.

Before I have the time to do anything, his whip cracks through the air, slapping hard and the end stone sizzles my bare back as he drags it along my spine. Between my shoulder blades, he hits me again and I cry out, "Harder!" I need more of the pain, but he tosses the whip to the side. "Cato!" I'm whining desperately and I don't care that the sound falling from my swollen, bloody lips is so unlike me. I'm unable to think and barely able to move from the pain which erupts from my side. The pain I love so much.

"I hate that damn thing," he says. "Deal with it."

God, I'm almost happily writhing in anticipation, Cato's always been best with his hands. He bends down to snatch a fist full of my dark hair, forcing my neck to twist in an awkward position as he ravages my mouth with fiery angry kisses, his teeth nipping my fleshy bottom lip while his free hand forces my legs apart. Nails dig into my scalp deep enough to draw blood. My legs go slack for him, limp and wanton, willing to do whatever he wishes of me.

And he does. Oh, he so does. Without taking a second too long, he leans on the floor, kneeling above me with one palm resting beside my head. He pulls back and the furious expression I can read on his face, the way his eyes narrow down to pissy blue slits, it all makes it oh so much better. He knows he can win this battle, but the war? Oh that he shouldn't take for granted.

He rams inside of me without any preambles, slipping one finger easily between my labia

and stretching my flesh wide open before simply shoving himself against, and in me. I arch and writhe and try to escape while knowing perfectly well that I don't want to. There's this amazing sensation building between my legs. The ache grows more intense as his heavy length reaches deeper. He's not small and the sudden pressure tears me apart. His cock is completely buried within me, our hips rocking together, and he laughs in my ear, breathlessly. "Told ya, you prefer this. Weak little girl."

I don't bother acknowledging his words. Our bodies move together, sliding with ease on the blood slicked floor. A delightful slouching sound reaches my ears. Admirably, Cato seems bothered by it and forces one of my legs higher up, tight around his neck and he practically pounds me onto the cold wet stone, rhythmically. What does the audience think now? I moan like a crazed maniac, more and more out of breath as the fingers tighten, curling around the side of my neck. Unintentionally or not, they cut my air supply. I'm so desperate and it's so damn good.

I'm on the verge, the very jagged edge of my orgasm when he rips his body away from mine, aggressively pulling himself up and a couple inches away, spilling heat in between my legs as his cock leaves my body. I can't help the enraged growl which chokes up my throat. It mingles with the thick coagulating liquid beneath us. I can't see as much as feel it coating my insides, my legs, everywhere around me, raging white hot like a wildfire I cannot control.

"Cato! You fucking bastard! I'll make you pay!" I'm beyond myself. My whole body convulses on the floor, arching off the cool stone as he catches my wrist and stops me from touching myself, from prompting that climax I so desperately need. I writhe and twitch and he doesn't allow me to move one inch, not until it's already too late, when the semen glistening sickly on my skin is cold and sticky and the deep orange lights have all but gone down to a faint dim which makes everything in sight barely discernible.

Only then does he respond to my cries with a loud, domineering sneer which causes something deep inside of me to explode from the sheer annoyance he's causing me. This is not pain, it's the worst kind of torture. "You already did. Still think you can win? Think again."

"I will." I groan and my head lolls back on the floor, baring my neck to him. His lips are on my wet skin, pressing a kiss that is too gentle, too damn mocking, to my trembling jaw. The gesture is a complete mockery of everything we stand for, everything we've been trained to do, and it only manages to aggravate me further! He rises up, after a moment, leaving me there, bloodied, limp, broken on the floor.

He doesn't turn back nor do I want him to, but I hear his soft scoff and I can practically imagine the way his lips curl, dangerously, or the way his eyes glint with the certainty that he will win. He believes and wants me to believe it. I don't. I know better. He's good, but even someone like him has his weaknesses.

"I'll be waiting."


	4. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Glimmer and Marvel are 22 years old.

Glimmer's POV.

His fingers move over my body like fine silk while his mouth works my small clit, leisurely taking in my more of my warm flesh with broad swipes of his tongue. Sinuous golden streams dance over us shining on the ceiling above my head and reflecting against the top of his head. They form figures which I can barely observe, as my eyes fall over lidded from the pleasure rippling through my body. His tongue rolls in delicate swirls, intoxicatingly slow.

An exquisite sensation jolts up my spine as Marvel's digits brush my breast, twitching over my nipple. Satin sheets tangle in my clenched fists. God, I just want him to hurry up with this already. It's not our first time acting like this, but it's certainly the most important one, the only time when our performance actually matters.

District One is not known for its complex, or simply raw antics. Very unlike Two and their bloody gore, we simply have to find a way of being pleasant to the eye, of acting without being told to. There's a thousand hidden cameras pointing at me, at my face, my body, my flowing blond hair which I have so carefully brushed for hours. And even now, with his wicked mouth pressing down on my sensitive skin, with his tongue drawing circles over me, sinful moans fall from my pursed lips and they are only half honest. Oh, he is good, but this is a choreography we both know too well.

I could speak, tell him to get over himself and stop playing this child's game and play the role I know he is so good at. However, there is a quietness that falls over us both. I whimper softly and he grunts against me, but no other sound is to be heard, or to break the liquid, transparent silence stretching across the room, it would shatter the scene which we are trying to create. My eyes dart across my surroundings: the lavish cream and mauve tones which envelop my body take the form of velvety fabric, half draped, half strewn around me. It would resemble a dream, but mine have nothing to do with it.

This is it, the final, utmost important moment in our lives. The one thing we've been trained to excel at. And excel we do.

Beams of light bounce off the crystal chandelier, glinting lustrously off the thin sheen layer of sweat coating our bodies. His smooth fingers pause on my hips in a bare caress, almost lighter than a breath, and I glance down to take in the delightful hunger in his eyes. He's asking for something and I'm pretty sure I know what it is without him vocalizing it.

Quickly I nod, anticipation boiling over my frayed nerves. He shifts, leaning over the edge of the bed leaving most of my body cold without his warm. My nipples harden into small chilled beads while my breasts rise and fall with the tempo of my quickening breaths. One of his long lithe fingers is pumping in and out of my tight vagina, a heady pulse that drives me utterly mad with need. Just a little deeper...just a little harder...just a little faster. I writhe upon a mountain of the softest pillows known to man, filled with the most delicate downy feathers, and even that seems to stir my sensitive skin. My body is a melting pot of lascivious desire.

I moan loud enough to send vibrations through the crystal lights, and Marvel's finger pulls from my aching hole. My eyes are slightly blurred for a moment and I blink away the myriad of light flickering in my vision. A welcomed shadow, his slightly sculpted chest fills my eyes, and I shift, tilting my head as my golden hair falls in a river over my breasts.

"Hold your hands out." Rough with lust, his voice send a gasp straight up my throat, and surprise sweeps through my body, turning into sweet, smooth aggravation. This is not something we've planned. What is he doing? Delicate flowing red lace falls through his open hands like an offering to the Gods and it is. I didn't expect it, but we both know this will win us favour with the Gamemakers.

Extending my arms, I press my wrists together as he binds them loosely. The ribbed fabric tickles my creamy flesh and the contrast of crimson and ivory catches my eye, positively wicked. He slips my hands over his head, ensnaring me against him as he moves against the flowing paths of my naked torso.

Plush lips suckle my breast while his left hand parts the petals of my sex for his throbbing hard penis. His index finger slowly massages my labia with smooth delicate strokes, and I can hear myself whimpering softly for him to get on with it all.

I see him touching himself and my eyes narrow in barely concealed annoyance. One of his palms fall closed, curling around the length of his shaft and stroking the hard, hot flesh up and down. I'm almost hypnotized by the movement as heated pressure builds up in my abdomen, coiling like a snake. I'm captivated as he works himself. He pumps with a deep conscience rhythm until a bead of semen drips over his wide tip and he uses it against me, rubbing it over my entrance, slicky combining our fluids before using it as lube for a quick deep thrust.

"Marvel!" I call out, pushing a deep moan from my slightly swollen lips as he buries himself to the hilt inside of me in. His hips grind against mine, our flesh gaining just enough traction for him to draw back and shoving himself into me again. The scorching hot, swollen head of his cock brushes that one spot deep inside of me and I give out a low pleasure-laced growl.

My fingers drape over the top of his spine, my nails digging in lightly as he plunges deep within my contracting vagina. I groan loudly, the sound guttural and heady, an almost growl of passion. Satin sheets are tangled around my leg, and he uses it to pull my ankle to his shoulder. Stern soft hands grip tightly to my hips, using my weight to deepen his thrusts.

Arching, constricting my breasts against the smooth plains of his chest, my back is nearly a foot off the bed. He seems to enjoy my being in the air because his hands move to grab my ass. Squeezing the plush flesh as I choke on a slight giggle from the sensation.

His lips twist into a devilish smirk, dark eyes glinting with mischief. He rolls his hips, stretching my vagina with his thick cock, consuming my canal. The sensations he elicits are deliciously nerve wracking. Fingers move over my rump, prickling my spine with sizzling pleasure.

He shifts, twisting inside, and I cry for him to further grind against my cervix. Oh God, he is so good at this. He knows precisely my weak spots and his making a show of putting me on display is sure to win the official's attentions. I would and should complain, he's never been this bold before. It's easy to keep him under my heel, but now? I can barely form a coherent thought, least

I'm not sure how long we stay there, moving together as one; our bodies sliding back and forth, propelled by the taut, hard muscles of Marvel's limbs, which twitch rhythmically as he shoves himself in and out of me, gliding easily thanks to the sweat which slicks us both. His cheek brushes mine, and I listen to the harsh breaths which fall from his lips, pressed tight against the top of my ear.

I'm lost in the deep pulse of his cock within my core. There's a mind blowing release building up like a hurricane, hot and blinding. My limbs are almost numb compared to the sizzling fire burning between us. His tongue darts over my ear, and I moan, positively consumed by the whole of him. There's an intensity stealing my sanity, eating me up like a demon eats a soul.

A clock ticks duly, threateningly, somewhere nearby. I know that our time has been almost completely exhausted. "Come." I whisper the order, staring seriously into Marvel's dark eyes as something clicks between us and his thrusts grow deep and quick. The tip of his cock works my nerves, igniting a fire, a deep scorching flame.

His cock jerks, a grunt hitting my cheek in a heated jagged breath. Semen shoots inside me, hitting every inch of my open canal and I can not stave off orgasm any longer. Incoherent cries escape my throat as the chandelier's display of light overpowers my vision. My breasts rise and fall captured against his chest. I can feel him growing flaccid within me as my walls contract against him.

Every inch he loses seems to grate my shoot yet another mindless reign of pleasure through my system, and I'm helpless to it until he releases my wrists from the binding lace. I fall back on a mound of satin and downy pillows, a wide grin on my lips as I suck in deep gulps of air. Cool air whispers over my sensitive fluid soaked labia, and my thighs slam together only managing to send me further into my extasy stupor.

When the anthem blasts across the room, its intensity nearly throws me off the orgasm induced dizziness which has engulfed me. Every inch of my flesh tingles and although I stare blankly at a random, gleaming silver spot on the curtained wall beside me, there's no true recognition flickering within them.

I can't quite catch the words as they rumble in the distance, but I do understand the intent behind how Marvel's hand brushes across my collarbone, his fingers squeezing the side of my body in a way I can only describe as intensely satisfying.

Words ease into the room from a speaker I care little to know where's located. "The judges have come to a decision..." I almost don't even care to hear the answer...almost. Marvel sits up on the bed, forcing the mattress to shift and I reach for his wrist for support. "Team two will be sent into The Pleasure Games, congratulations..."

My eyes are wide, and I look straight at Marvel's smiling face. "Team two? Who are team two?"

"We are."


	5. It's only the beginning

Cato's POV.

Blinding hot white lights, or is it the sun?... faces connected to blurred shadows, perhaps they are people or perhaps this is just a very fucked up dream. I'm easing in a out of consciousness as if this state is nothing but completely natural, instead of having been induced to me by drugs. I can't remember being force fed anything, so maybe not. Then again, I cannot discern when I wake and when I'm out again, only the images, the sounds of soft voices and the scent of soap.

Mild anxiety bubbles acidly at the pit of my stomach as I manage the thought of how impaired I might be to the world. My guts gurgle and that's practically all I can hear, like blatantly loud thunder, screeching right beside my ear. I can't remember what I'm doing here. What am I? It's soon to be forgotten, I'm sure.

I wake blurry eyed, cold stone against my back, my muscles shift, tense from disuse... I'm not certain how long I've been out but it must've been a day or two at least. My body is stiff and my skin is clean, dry, I've been bathed from head to toe and I push the discomfort of other's hands over my unconscious body away and out of my mind. This is something I've been trained to do, I think, though it comes naturally to me: to shove everything else away and focus on the moment.

Others fill the stark empty, dimly lit space surrounding me and I tense, out of mechanical instinct. A soft litany of grunts and moans fills my ears and I shake my head. Shaggy blonde hair falls damp against my forehead. I'm completely naked, just as vulnerable as the mass of bodies strewn on the space around me. But I'm better. Sharper. I'm more conscious and am the first to slide through the soft, carpeted - which I realize, is actually grass - floor and reach for the center of the room.

That's when I realize I am actually inside the arena already. Huge and massive, a white wall blares down on me. Black bold letters are sprawled out, clearly marking the rules of this sensual game. "Welcome to The Pleasure Games..." There's a meek looking blond to my left mumbling the Rules as if her life depended on them, "Once one orgasms they are disqualified, and the gamemaker's shall choose whether or not they deserve to keep their sexual organs based on game progress. No killing...maiming..." Her light colored eyes squinted, trying to read a handwritten scribble on the bottom of the sign, "No...chewing on the genitals of fellow tributes? Well that seems unnecessary..." I choked on a chuckle, holding it tight in my chest. - Obviously this girl has never met Clove.

A pile of erotic weapons, toys to use for tantric torture lay waiting before me and the many waking competitors. There are mini mountains of vibrators, butt plugs, and other odds and ends that can be shoved, rubbed, and brushed over or into unsuspecting caverns. For a moment I'm at a loss, not sure exactly what I care to take and put to good use. It's not like I need anything but my hands and my cock anyway...Then again, a toy keeps my dick clean.

Something clear glints in the sunlight and catches my eye. I close my fist firmly around a slick long glass rod, I know exactly what to do and how to use my rather large toy. We are only allotted one, and mine is by far one of the best. Sturdy and thick, it'll be easy to slide between anyone's folds.

Every other tribute, or rather, offering, is scrambling, some of them quite literally crawling on their knees through the crowd, and trying to reach for higher ground. Instead of going with the flow, I stand behind. With my height, it's easy to tower over most of them and after a second, there are two groups running from each side of me.

I grin smoothly at their retreating forms. Too easy already. I could practically smell the fear rolling off some of them. I can almost understand. The fates are not good for these piss poor excuses for human beings and they'll suffer the consequences of having been thrust in the games. I practically gloat at my own mental pun. The kids? Oh they are goners.

I, on the other hand, I've been bred a winner. My biceps flex under the blazing sunlight and I take a step forward. A little hill separates me from the meadow ahead. I remember this from having been shown projections of the arena before arriving. Of course, not everyone has that sort of privilege, but being from District Two means there are many things I can do that they would have never dreamed of.

Which means, she does too. Clove, my District Partner, of course. Whipping my neck to the left, I catch a fleeting image of inky black hair flowing to the breeze, reflecting the harsh light, and immediately know whom it belongs to. After all, we've been training together for years and it'd be difficult - I refuse to use the word 'hard' as of yet - to ignore the knowledge.

I almost hope that someone will deal with her before it ends up being the two of us as last contenders. Although my fingers have long since memorized every inch of her fair, smooth skin, discovered her every sensibility and know to twist in the sweetest manner, in order to win this particular sort of battle by a landslide, I imagine that the opposite is just as truthful. Plus, I hate that the only way to get her off is to beat her bloody and bruised. I shove off the urge to shiver at the images of our juicings... I don't want to have to put on a bloody show again.

Swallowing down on my sudden, stupid, apprehensiveness, I turn towards her once again, watching as she dashes. No more of jinxing my prospects as future victor.

Almost on cue, summoned by my frivolous thoughts perhaps, I watch as Clove herself breaks through a stretch of vegetation. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes in attempt at pushing the oppressive sunlight away. I blink and suddenly she runs towards the pile of weapons which I've just gone through and picks the most ridiculous looking butt plug. It's black and slick, which I guess is mostly her style, but instead of being shaped like... a normal one would, it stands out with spikes.

"Gonna have fun with that?" I call out to her, a light whereas scathing tone curling the corners of my mouth upwards.

Her psychotic tendencies, to inflict mindless agony upon others are... well known to me - I still have the scars somewhere - but they won't work too well in these sort of games: the number of masochists in them tends to be minimal, which is a statistic she is well aware of, we both are. Mostly for this reason, her choice of weapon puzzles me and I find myself being more curious than alert, slinking back on to an idle stance and considering my surroundings.

She doesn't bother turning toward me and I'm about to stalk off and ignore her when a couple words reach me, ringing in my ears. "Sure, do you want to come have fun with it, too?" She teases, resuming her jog as I turn back to shoot her one last glance, grinning wide.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to ever reach this level of understanding with anyone else. In the end, it doesn't matter, or at least, not more than trying to win these games and not getting my dick chopped off in the process. It practically shrinks in itself at the thought, and for that I am thoroughly glad.

"Something like that." I shout, though the likelihood of having her actually listen to me, given the rapidly growing space between is, is low. "Have fun." I'm purposefully ambiguous, though I can only hope she will lose soon. And, of course, that she will have a decent last time. I wouldn't have wanted less for someone who has taught me so much in the ways of pleasing others.

There are a number of structures somewhere in the distance. I can barely make them out, but they stand off from the otherwise dry yellow grass and the mauve and cyan flowers dotting the ground, practically forming a flowing blanket of stinky, musky smelling plants.

Are these the pheromones I have been so meticulously taught about?

The sound of liquid rolling through stone snaps me off my own thoughts. I have to get my game together, figuratively and very literally.

And now I am staking my claim on a particularly fluffy silk lined bed, fur fringed cuffs hang from its posts just begging for victims. A river of spine tingling lube runs like swift lava behind my chosen plot, and I plan to use it to my best advantage.

I stalk my silent, amused way towards it and move to lay down on the pristine velvety expanse of its sheets, half propped on my side. My elbow diggs firmly on the feather soft mattress and the toy - my faithful partner in crime, or pleasure - is cool and slick as it pushes onto my hip. It's easier to arrange matches when one is this relaxed already. Especially when the one is as incredibly built as myself. After all, if they are doomed to lose, which they all are, they might as well have a hell of a last time, right?

As if on cue, my eyes lower and I gaze at my own abdomen: I'm built for this, my body a weapon in and of itself. I don't need to do anything but wait. Competitors will flock to try and eliminate me, if only to be granted a taste. I don't think they expect it, this confidence I'm exuding. - I can't help that I already know I'll win.

Still, my mind is somewhere else, I watch as a girl, one of the few left behind starts to walk towards me, "Hey you!" She calls out to me with a false air of bravado, trembling, I can tell she's scared as hell.

I watch her as she slinks forward with a slightly humorous over exaggerated gait. Her thin hips sway to and fro. She's skinny, overly so, and I doubt, even if she had a chance in Hell at winning, that her twig-like form could ever carry a healthy child. A laugh rumbles through my chest, and she scowls ugly with thin lips on her triangular face.

Our lips meet and instantly I know she's not the one who'll win this battle. Of course, it's not that I didn't already anticipate her downfall, her failure. Instead of pushing her mouth firm against mine, she lingers back, waiting for me to move. I would've scoffed and pushed her away, but this is a weak opponent and one I'm glad to eliminate. Her actions are annoyingly meek, tentative and so damn unsexy just as her kiss is sloppy and wet; if my penis could have gone any softer it would have.

She's weak, with little training and from the first pump of my finger inside her slick loose core, I know that she will not last long in this competition. If not I, then someone else would have removed her rather quickly. Her mewls are sharp and rigid in my ears, and I have to strain to keep from smothering her with a feather pillow. .

Light blue eyes are wide, staring at me with a surprised shock I find ridiculously naive, had she not trained at all? With my thumb driving carelessly against her smooth little clit, I smirk at her tauntingly, "Too easy."

It's amazing how little effort I have to put into making this little twit gush, and gush she does, spraying sweet cum all over my palm. My thick clear glass dildo lies unused on the bed. Tears spill from her eyes as a scream crawls through her clenched teeth. She's finished, spent all over my large hand.

Before I even have a second to pity her, after all she'll never experience such bliss again, I feel a smooth finger trail along my scrotum.

"What the Hell?" The words echo in my chest, spilling from my lips in an angry snarl as I catch a honey blonde lying square between my legs. She's trying to handcuff her thin wrist to my ankle, but the cuff is too small for my bone structure and refuses to close. Her weapon is a stupid one.

I extend my foot to kick this moron away, but she squeals, rolling to the opposite end of the bed in one fluid like motion. Her large breasts bounce as she somersaults off the plush mattress, and when I ready for her to return to our match, she joins a short lithe vixen in torturing a rather large hairy man a couple of beds away.

A symphony of animalistic grunts, groans, moans and practically everything else I could have imagined reach me from every direction.

The next girl comes at me out of nowhere. One moment, there's not a single free player in a couple feet radius, only ruffled, fluid soaked pillows and then the next, there is this red headed amazon towering like a mad woman over my bed. Flame colored tendrils of hair flow along her narrow shoulders, falling wildly to her waist. She eyes me carelessly, as if I am just another notch in her rather lengthy bedpost. Her muscles bulge almost as much as mine while her small breasts sit almost flat on her pale chest.

There's a thick sarong covering her crotch and I am glad for it, in fact I wish I wouldn't have to be the one to dispatch her. She's holding a long strand of blood red anal beads dripping with someone else's fluids...I try not to imagine where they've been as she slides them up and down the valley between her almost non existent breasts. She groans as slick residue coats the smooth space.

Oh fuck! Suddenly the reason behind her masculine figure is terrifyingly clear as the fabric covering her- his groin rises to reveal a massive cock. My eyes are wide, my chest is pounding heavily.

Deep rumbling laughter pours through his throat and I notice the rather large adam's apple bobbing up and I missed it...Shit! How in the Hell did I miss THAT?

Eagerly, he climbs up the bed, still chuckling half crazed, his almost black eyes darting every which way... "I want you."

Oh fucking God! He wants me, and I try not to completely freak at the prospect. This guy seemed like Clove's bread and butter, so why did he seek me out? Do I exude some sort of sadistic magnetism? Probably.

I fight back the urge to flinch away, or to hit him across the face with my toy. None of these are permissible actions. Fuck. If I want to win, I will have to deal with it.

His lips are sweet ruby red, painted up like a doll, and I try to see him as the woman I first thought he was. This helps me calm down a bit and focus as his finger reach out to knead my tense forearms. I watch him carefully, sliding closer over the silken sheets, but he does something I don't expect.

A strong hand smooth and creamy pushes wet beads into my palm, "Use them on me." Lust coats the demand and an anticipatory shiver eases over his spine.

Something isn't adding up, this guy just doesn't make any sense. "Why should I?"

"I've no interest in the ending to this game, pussy has never been appetizing to me. Why shouldn't I just enjoy myself rather than trying to win?" He tilts his freshly shaven chin to the side, casting a glance to the bed closest to mine.

Two thickly chiseled blondes lay in a pool of sticky fluids, both flaccid from swift ejaculations. I resist a cringe as his voice rolls hot near my ear, "You've got ten minutes to make me spew or I'm going to blow you into oblivion." His tongue darts out running cold against my lobe, and my dick shrinks up as if there's a snow storm blowing icily against it.

I'm about to blow him off, metaphorically speaking because I'm really not one to be caught with a dick in my mouth; after all, it's not someone of the likes of him, or his gender, who will actually tip me to the brink of orgasm, but I am caught by the tone he uses, almost a challenge. I'm not one to back down from any sort of challenge, besides, it's not like I don't know exactly what to do. For good or worse, I have been trained for this and to have one less player in the Games means I am closer to my victory and my sweet prize, too. I push my nervousness deep down within my throat, where it gurgles like a monster and move one arm forward, to catch his shoulder.

His ass is swaying in front of my face with the exuberance of an ice cream cone being waved in front of a child, and I am thinking that he expects me to be enjoying it just as much as he is - I'm not, girls may not work for him but guys don't do it for me. He doesn't mind my discomfort, and arches his back a little more in a delightful expectation. "Time is ticking, Two, time is ticking..." The sing-songy lilty tune to his voice sends a rotten coil slithering through my stomach.

Like little drops of blood, I ease the beads into his wanton cavity while holding back a gag. I push two orbs inside, listening for the tale tale signs of the bliss erupting within him. Sadly for me, in spite of how I push the twist the toy deeper inside of him, the man's reaction is a rather weak one. I've done this before - not to my preferences, but I am not completely clueless about it either. So what am I doing wrong?

An idea pops bright in my mind: these gentle ministrations do not seem to be working in my favor, so since my first vibe off this guy was masochist, in one swift movement, I snatch up the glass rod sitting quietly beside me and plunge it deep within his ass.

"Oh God!" I can't help but to feel victorious as he hisses in rapture. The beads, still very much impaled within him, grind against the sturdy glass as I pump it in harsh jagged movements, all the while knowing the only other person that would ever enjoy this as much as this guy is Clove.

Thick and hard, his impressive erection grinds into the silk white sheets as I drive into his swelling hole. His breaths grow heavy and shudder through his chest, I know little more is needed to drive him over the thin edge of hot white ecstasy.

Sucking in a much needed chest full of air, I clench my teeth and press my thumb against the spot just below his large sack. A sharp gasp fills the air around me and his body tremors almost violently. Thick rivulets gush over my sheets, as he begs for me to continue. I don't even bother, he's spent and out of the competition.

He grabs hold of the glass rod as I back away, resuming the swift, steady pumps into his anus.

The thought of having to change the fabric crosses my mind and I consider how easy it might be to find another bed, or simply steal someone else's clean sheets.

After such a close call, I'm glad to catch sight of my next contender...there is an air about her, my instincts are screaming, and I know this is someone to watch closely.

Onyx hair floods my vision while the clinking sound of a chain fills my ears, "Well, don't you look like a monster..." Her voice is a sinful cadence that slathers my nerves in static. Light gray eyes lock on my groin, and I realize the statement is not for me but the flaccid cock hanging limp between my thighs.

She's on her hands and knees in the perfect position to be ravaged from behind. Smooth curved muscles shape her in an hourglass, her hips are wide, flaring out, while a leather device hides her ass from my view. Chains slink up the sides of the slightly amusing device, while large locks hold it in place.

Fuck. Her mouth is on my cock, her tongue skating the loose flesh in a delicate line. I don't have the sense to pull away, not with delicate fingers gripping my thighs. God, her hands are so soft, her strokes gentle...so unlike Clove's rough ministrations - I haven't trained much for such docile treatment. I'm lost in the heat of her mouth and the sticky sweet spice of her arousal. I know she's enjoying this just as much as I, but there's no way to reach her imprisoned vagina. She's intelligent for using such armor, and my only choice is to hold tight to my resolve.

If it weren't against the rules and traditionally forbidden to kill or otherwise maim my opponents, I would have pushed both my quivering palms against her creamy white, luscious throat and squeezed the air off her lungs. However, I am neither allowed, nor am I in the state of mind to do so, not with my hands practically shivering from the tension as I both try to hold myself still and keep my cock from filling with boiling blood. I'm failing fast.

She feels incredible, with her slightly swollen lips enveloping the head of my rapidly stiffening length and her tongue drawing eights on my flesh. Being able to watch as her head bobs back and forth, taking more and more of myself within her mouth with every movement is awful and it only seems to further shatter the walls I have built around myself. Within moments I have become a writhing mess, and there's no words to express how much I loath to consider what might've happened if I weren't so prepared to withstand this.

Though maybe I should have gone with a cock ring after all, instead of the trusty glass rod as my one and only toy.

When she pulls off, with a loud wet pop, I am relieved for the whole second that it takes her to wrap one hand at the base of my cock, whilst her other forms a claw around my inner thigh. I groan, and fight not to buck my hips into that delicious pressure. She seems impressed by my strength of will. Although I am pretty damn hard around her skilled fingertips, I am not quite on edge, though if she can tell that, no one's the wiser.

"You're pretty good," she coos, sickly sweet, still pumping my shaft, up and down in a slow rhythm. "Two, right? I hear you guys are trained your whole lives for this. Not fair, but might make it funnier, when I make you cum, that is."

I take the moment to move one of my own hands from where it had been clinging to the white, now very damp sheets beneath my body and shove it towards her chest. Plush voluptuous mounds connect with my large palm, her nipples are like small beads, erect as I roll them between my fingers. Her quickening breaths are a distraction to the steady rhythm she pumps around my painfully erect cock.

"You wish," A raspy moan bursts free, crawling up my windpipe and past my lips. I bare my throat at her and bask in the whimper I receive as my firm palm squeezes her breast whole, hard; "Don't you wanna take that pretty little chastity belt off and enjoy the moment?"

I guess the rolling eyes I earn in return to my comment is very well deserved. Our eyes meet for a moment and it takes all my strength to stop myself from diving deep within her gray-ish ones. They are similar to Clove's, although a completely different emotion brims within their core. "Wishful thinking. Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?" Her voice is tight and determined, and I can't help but to enjoy it so close to my pulsing head.

She twists her tongue wickedly along the vein in my shaft and it takes me a moment to gather enough air to make any sound other than a groan. The pressure building between us is thick, an almost solid block of lust, "Bet I could make you scream, you'd love it." Hell I'd love it, maybe too much.

This girl with eyes like a stormy night is steadily writhing her way into a strange affection in the pit of my stomach. Not bothering to answer, she just grins against the spongy head of my cock, like she's holding some kind of secret that I would want to be privy to, perhaps I should want to.

In an instant she climbs up my torso, gripping my thickly muscled sides to hoist herself up off the ground. Her black tresses tickle my naked flesh and my abs twitch beneath the soft kisses she's decided to place randomly all over my chest. In any other situation I'd give in to such delicious temptation, but I can't at the moment, these are the Games and I am here to win.

Her fingers trail along the line of my body, examining every inch as she stares up into my eyes, searching my face for something I cannot name. Nipples graze my ribs and I pull her closer, tighter against me, her plump breasts bound and constricted, with my fingers gripping the thick leather strap riding low on her hips. She does not make another move, so I dip my head to steal a toe curling kiss, and when it ends I feel a smile pressed light against my mouth.

"I'm from Twelve, don't forget because I'm going to win these Pleasure Games, and you won't want to miss it." Her breath is hot with longing, her lips like the softest satin as she runs them against my own before she slips from my grasp running away to torture some other poor soul. I hate the part of me that's happy for her to leave, because perhaps we will meet again, in fact I'm sure we will as long as that little chastity belt stays locked in place.

I should have eliminated her...I should have tied her to my bed with cuffs and sheets and took my time breaking into the prison holding her inexperienced vagina captive. The reasons for my hesitation are unknown to me and only manage to aggravate my irritation. There's a million and one cameras peppered across this arena and I can only imagine that the sponsors are watching my pathetic weakness.

Even now, minutes later as I watch her retreating form become nothing but a black dot on the horizon, I realize that my cock is still near rock hard and although the tingly sensation shooting down my thighs doesn't faze me, it probably already slashed the likelihood of catching a sponsor gift in half. Not that I need it, but something... a key would be appreciated to unlock Twelve.

My shoulder blades roll forward as I release the tension in them. Someone up there going to make a couple keys rain down on me? Pretty please? I watch an impassive cloud roll over me, high up above in the otherwise blue sky. Nothing happens and I am almost amused at the irony. Guess not.

I turn towards her again. She's surely moving to eliminate some less apt contenders, which is something I should appreciate, since it leaves me with less troublesome guys to deal with. I shudder, and my length seemingly shrinks back on itself. Yet, the idea of having someone-anyone else unlock her precious -I realize probably innocent sex - only annoys me.

Why? I cannot tell and it's damn infuriating. I just cannot forget the squeeze of her lips around my penis or the softness of her breast as I cupped it... and...

A loud squeal tears me from my own mind and I shift where I lay glued to the bed, with sweat rolling off my strained muscles in fat little droplets and turn towards its source, more out of curiosity than an urge to move. I'm just fast enough to see where - probably a hundred or so meters away, though the distance is difficult to judge - Clove lays spread eagle on the ground.

She's never been one for unnecessary amenities but the sight still amuses me. A skinny guy is standing over her, with one of his legs straddling her and probably impaling her with his cock as well, though I can't see it from here. His hips are jerky in movement, like a muscle twitch rather than an actual thrust. The whole situation is rather pathetic.

He's grunting and she's going with it. Easy enough to fake it for her, damn. A lopsided smile makes its way through my face. Jeez, good luck dude, cause you sure as hell aren't gonna get her to come like that. Maybe with a knife drawing lines on her thighs, maybe with his blood pouring and mingling with both their fluids... maybe.

I turn my head lazily from the sight, dragging my hand through my short damp blond hair. The transvestite's blood red anal beads are only inches from my face, glistening in the sunlight.

Just my luck.


	6. Trying Circumstances

Peeta's POV

God, why me? I'm pleading to absolutely no one in my head - I've turned into an absolute mess as my body moves on autopilot. I hate that I'm here, I hate that I've been juiced for this damn competition... I could die happy never seeing another vagina again, and yet the Gods laugh at my situation.

Her breasts are the size of large cantaloupes and the color of dark chocolate, her nipples, perky chips. She's caught me in her lustful gaze, lashes batt fiercely, she moves toward me like a huntress toward prey. Black pubes stand out from her ashy mound, hiding her vagina from my view, and for the moment I'm happy with the circumstance - now if only I can get her gushing without touching that hairy bush.

"Hello there handsome." A thick accent runs smoothly from her full pouty lips, and I wish the sound had been deeper, richer. She reaches out to run two inch long nails over my chest and arms. I have to look up to see her face, eyes smoldering brown, the color of old blood.

She glances at my ever shortening flaccid penis as it hangs between my legs, "Oh..." Disappointed, she frowns, "You're one of those..." Just when I think she'll run off and away to torture someone who is actually aroused by her buxom breasts, she flips her thick black hair over her shoulder and calls out, "Hey Thresh! Come over here!"

Oh my god. Thick black rippling muscles turn at her request, a man that looks to have been dipped in chocolate batter. I salivate at the prospect of licking every inch of his heavily chiseled flesh. He catches my jaw dropped stare and winks at me with dark eyes, his large hand pumps the massive cock between his legs. His shaft is almost over half the length of my forearm and has a girth that makes my eyes bulge.

Pearly white, his plush lips stretch wide, pink long and thick, his tongue drags over his smile ever so slowly. His body calls to mine, forcing my cock erect and steely. Blood pulses in my veins filling my shaft until I fear it may very well explode.

I'm so distracted, the large woman easily overpowers me, forcing me flat against the bed and I growl half heartedly, as I am writhing in anticipation for that monstrous cock. She forces my eyes on him as he strokes himself, the large vein in his cock throbbing like mad. There's a tingle running up my legs from the sight I've never had the pleasure of feeling before.

Warm and calloused, he runs a finger over the bottom of my foot. "Mmm," I bite off my groan of approval. This is my first experience with someone I truly find attractive and I'm not sure I can handle it. His cock twitches as it consumes my attention and a bead of precome eases from it's slightly pinkened tip.

My lungs shudder, my breath quickens. He lets his essence dribble from his cock to mine like water from a leaky faucet. His semen is hot, boiling over my cock and I gasp as he releases his own dick to massage mine. Easily he has my spine arching and my legs quivering. My nails tear into the white sheets as the woman holds my wrists firmly to the mattress.

Like a hot bolt of lightning, his tongue rolls over the most sensitive part of my cock, flicking against the nerve endings on the underside of my shaft. "Oh god." I hiss as little sparks of desire rip through my nerves.

"Peeta!?" -No! Oh no, no...Katniss's grey eyes are wide with shock as she spots me from another bed she's scrambling off of. She doesn't know how much I enjoy this delightful man tasting my cock, I've never actually told her or anyone else my preferences.

I hold my breath as my torturer pauses in his ministrations and we both watch as she jogs toward us. There's a worry in my chest that she won't accept me like this.

"Get out of here girlie!" Thresh growls as his buxom bountiful breasted woman releases my wrists and seconds his command.

Katniss throws her hands to her hips, white perky tits bouncing as she does so, completely ignoring the other two tributes as if they mean nothing, "Peeta? What are you doing, we have to defeat the competition!" Nope, her attitude has not changed toward me at all, and for that I'm thankful.

I can't resist grinning like mad as she moves toward the woman who'd been holding me down, "Look, I'll take down this girl, and you get the guy." There's a darkness flickering in her eyes I find endearing. That in itself snaps me out of my submissive state.

My eyes run over the hunky man straddling my waist with a fervent hunger. "You got it!" And oh man I do! His dark eyes are darting back and forth as the energy around us changes.

I push myself up, raking my nails over his twitching bicep, holding him in place as he starts to back away. "What you can take me with your bitch holding me down but now that I'm the predator you can't handle me?"

My words spur something primal within him, and adamantly, he snaps, "No, I'm going to make you come so hard your dick will fall off." Despite the excitement his little statement caused, I pushed his chest hard enough to force his back to fall against the mattress, my fingers lingering a long enough to feel up his stony pecs.

I'm going to try my best to win these games, not that I care for the prize, but I'd like to keep my cock intact. -If only to one day take my time enjoying a real lover.


	7. What friends are for

Katniss

A cool clammy sweat eases along my spine as the sun washes through my fair skin, this entire process of milking every man I see is becoming tiring. My onyx hair is loose, my smile, plush and inviting seemingly sweet and innocent...like not much of a battle. I work my angles, the cute square shape of my face and the dark lashes lining my eyes...most of these guys, men, are easily fooled by a young face.

I'm growing bored with this Game, and my mind is immediately drawn back to the one man here I actually found interesting. I can't get the taste of his flesh off my tongue or the feel of his stern hands off my body. I should have forced him to explode in my mouth, I should have ended him then and there, but the guy was rather amusing...not to mention he made a fine specimen of a man... My heart is pounding, my thighs positively ache as I realize I actually wouldn't mind mating with him. - Not in the slightest.

When I win these games...I'll make him my prize. Just imagining his lips on my flesh forces a shiver down my spine. I have to force off these thoughts, chase them away. If I encounter him again before the end I may be forced to end his game early...and if that happens he won't even be capable of being my prize.

Quickly I suck in a deep breath, plopping down on a bed Peeta and I agreed to share. I'm relieved to see him still going strong, even with the little strawberry blonde grinding against his flaccid penis, just as I am relieved to have him so distracted. -I don't want to even admit to myself how much I want to be with Two, and his pet monster.

A small secretive smile steals my lips before I quickly throw all thoughts of him aside. My hands tremble in my lap, how much of these games will I be able to endure? I want to win, but honestly how likely is it that a virgin will win the Pleasure Games?

The heavy belt saving my innocence is digging into my waist and hips, and it's damn near painful, though, I don't dare remove the armor, I gave up my rights to a weapon just for this protection.

I was surprised to have found the Chastity belt still untouched by the pile of weapons, earlier on. Either most other tributes are much more experienced than me, or their overconfidence is astounding. I'm starting to think the second is more likely based on the amount of guys and girls I've already dispatched.

Despite never having spent too much time together, at least for Tributes juiced from the same District, there is a strangely incoherent part of me that wishes Peeta will be able to win these Games with me, despite his preference of the masculine persuasion. One that directly contradicts my desire to mate with that damn monster from earlier. I cannot desire, nor quench my lust for him. It's stupid but so am I, for taking this belt without having looked for a key.

(The urge to pee is overpowering and I try to push it away, successfully. My thighs quiver ...)

Peeta is, well, a very interesting and an equally attractive boy, I guess, with his impish face, handsome jaw and sparkling indigo eyes - even though my mind is set on another blond altogether, I have to give him that much credit - but growing up, I'd always suspected something strange might be going on with him, and the days of preparation before the games only confirmed my suspicions. If I'm right, and I'm nearly positive I am, he wouldn't be happy procreating with me. A small, tentative tight smile crawls its way up to my lips as I watch Peeta shoo away the girl who'd been bothering him.

Does he even know how to get her off and rid us of another competitor? I don't know. I mean he's wonderful at eating me, but I've yet to see him do that to anyone here. A sigh lingers on the tip of my tongue. Two it is, then.

There's a wicked shadow haunting my mind, part of me wants to be threading towards him and asking to him undo this cage. I cannot imagine a more brilliant idea, and one which causes my heart to flutter wildly against my ribcage, akin to the butterflies I can see zooming around every bed. It's a silly lusty hormone induced desire, one I can't indulge. I can't give myself up and lose these games. Not after having witnessed what happens to the losing parties.

After a moment or two of lingering behind, I decide to move over to Peeta and discover his plan for the Games. I can't see him as wanting to lose, not on purpose, and am equally sure he'll not try to find the key for my armored defenses.

He's standing dangerously close to the nearby stream's edge, watching as the liquid revolves in slow, white circles a couple feet below. His eyes penetrate the scenery around him, and I can tell something is on his mind. A stone skips across its surface and the ripple effect reaches up to the margins, nearly knocking me off my feet I have to admit, it's a pretty spectacle. And one which smells of something artificial, of chemicals and glue. A river of lube.

"Peeta?" I call to him, trying not to surprise him and cause him to topple down into the slick stream.

"Oh," He turns to me, and there's a sweet albeit longing smile on his face. Has he not found what he'd been searching for? "Hey Katniss. How's it going?"

"Pretty well. I've managed to eliminate a few tributes already." I admit, not seeing any reason to start lying to him, or how that might help me, right here and now anyway. ...

"Good, that's great. I knew you'd do well here. By the way, nice toy you've found there." A small smile ghosted his lips, as he nodded toward my coochy's prison.

I look down at my thighs. "Oh yeah, figured it might keep a couple bad influences away."

"You're going to ace this." His grin is a tell-tale sign of his discomfort for the situation he's been put in. It's not like this is some random boy whom I've never talked to before. I can't read him like a book, but he wears his expression crystal clear on his face.

Really? I know he's lying but find no reasons to press him further. Instead, I roll my arms in a noncommittal shrug , directing the gesture at him. If he means to imply something… about me, he has chosen the wrong time for it. But this is Peeta, I can't quite wrap my mind around him. After all, we're both quite naked and standing only a couple yards from each other. The time for modesty has gone and passed and yet, there's a soft crimson blush tolling his features.

"Thanks," I nod back at him and purposefully try to route the conversation away from me, it's uncomfortable enough having been juiced for these silly Games, ones which I will win, however, the spotlight just isn't for me and the thought of having a number of cameras watch my most private parts are enough to send a shiver crawling down my spine.

Away with it, then. "So you haven't been very successful? I'm sure you could eliminate quite a few tributes.." And part of me wonders why he hasn't done so yet. I eye the penis pressed limp against over half the length of his thigh, he's what one might call well-hung.

"A few, probably," It's his turn to shrug. "I've seen you give that big guy a try, what's his name? Not that it matters, but he seems pretty tough. I don't think that belt is going to help you if he decides to have his way with you. You should steer clear."

Oh. I get it now. I think I get it now. He's jealous. He's likes two...

"I think I can handle myself, Peeta." I pronounce every letter of his name very clearly. Not wanting to burst his bubble, I keep myself from mentioning how I'm pretty sure Two and his monster didn't seem very interested in other males during the time I observed him. "Besides, why would you care? Do you want to win with me?" There's honesty in my tone, does he?

A wet (sound) snaps me off my thoughts and I realize another stone has just sunk in the river, caught in its turbulent waters, or rather, slick lube.. Turning from it back to Peeta I can see his blush grow darker and he sports half a shrug, as if he'd given up on the gesture all together.

He grins, and I know again he's positively uncomfortable, "Maybe..." I can't help the pity boiling through my chest, honestly I feel kinda bad for him. There's no way for a guy with his tastes to have a happy ending in this competition. Not when the prize is the right to pick a mate, a spouse with the sexual skills of a God. Once you make it to top five, you're fair game to become a prize for the winner. Though the winner's prize must be someone they can breed with...

A glint in his cerulean blue eyes catches my attention, distracting me from my thoughts, and I glance over my shoulder at the object of his desire. Petite yet compact, a lightly muscled heavily tanned fellow stalks toward the lube's edge with a small cup. Peeta is practically salivating out of the corner of my eyes, and good fun, I grasp his soft hand in mine and drag him toward our prey. "Come on Peeta, let's destroy this guy!"

A huge scarlet blush steals his face, but he doesn't move to pull away, instead he takes the lead. He nearly pounces on the poor guy, lifting him up and carrying him kicking and growling to our shared bed. It's almost sweet how gently he released him, drawing his fingers over his honeyed flesh.

Peeta's blue eyes are sparkling, a smile on his face I've never seen before, and I realize I'm happy to have done this for him. His fingers twist around our prey's tanned penis as I pour lube all over his bulky muscles.

"Neither of you are going to make me cum! You're wasting your time!" There's a shocked craze shading his almost black eyes, and before he can snarl, I press my mouth full on his thin snarl. Exploring behind his lips with rolling taunts of my tongue, his massive hands cup my breasts roughly. I'm now the one surprised as my tit fills his hand fully without spilling over the sides. -Impressive. He seems happy with this turn of events as he pinches my nipples while kneading the sensitive mounds. His tongue responds against mine, twisting as a moan escapes his throat.

Theres a fire burning hot and heavy in the pit of my stomach, but nothing I haven't felt before. Even through the clanking belt I can feel the wet juice silkening my unpopped cherry.

Another groan spills from his mouth to mine, and I crack open an eye to peek at whatever Peeta is doing to keep him so responsive. The ferocity in which he is sucking him off is shocking. He pulls up, his lips smacking against the guy's nicely sized tip. Peeta sighs, kissing the sensitive flesh lightly before running his tongue in a swirl against him.

"Oh God!" Our lips unlock with the intensity of his moan. His hands pause over my breasts and I tilt my chin to see what else Peeta is doing to torture our prey. I watch as he resumes the blow job, taking in the guy's entire cock with a hunger that seems to consume him. His finger is pumping below his chin, and the connection clicks in my mind just as nails dig harshly into my chest. My cries of pain are drowned by our prey's moan of ecstasy, Peeta keeps him coming long and hard and swallows every last bit of his thick and creamy juices.

There's a content smile stretched wide on Peeta's plush lips that I've never seen before. I'm glad he had a good time for once.


	8. One fancy turnabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7: One fancy turnabout

Clove's POV.

Anger beats like the sun against my back as I watch Cato glance toward the inexperienced bitch I vaguely remember is from District Twelve. I don't like the light reflecting in his eyes or the slight twitch of his cock when he steals a glance of her. I'm the one who's been his master all these years! I'm the one who trained with him...and I should be the one to dispatch him!

My fingers clench white and numb around the slick black toy in my hand, I've already decided to use it on the girl...later...at the moment the time is not right. Not to mention the ugly clanking leather device hiding her orifices from any invasion, but I will destroy her for even attempting to conquer my little pet.

Aching to rid myself of the sudden frustration, I flounce up to the closest bed. There tied to the mattress by thick straps is a soft bodied girl with feathery auburn locks hanging loosely over her small breasts. Glimmer, from District One, is working the girl's tight little pussy with even twists of her wrist as the girl snarls, gnashing her teeth as she forces down the intense need to spill searing fluids. As if finally realizing a little fingering won't be eliminating this feisty redhead, Glimmer begins kissing and nipping at her creamy flesh, leaving blemishes on what had been pure alabaster. - An act of child's play, but it still ignites my more than carnal urges.

She eases her thin lips over the writhing girl's bald folds, flicking her tongue lightly to taste her swollen clit like a snake scenting the air. Heady gasps and seethed moans sear the air around them, and the tortured tribute reaches out to snatch a chunk of Glimmer's thick bouncing blonde curls, but her hands are caught mid-motion, and Glimmer uses her height to her advantage ensnaring her small wrists high above her fiery locks while running her tongue through her folds. She's shivering, legs trembling, finally something resonates for her. There's a wetness seeping from her core, coating Glimmer's lips, mixing with her saliva.

Bored of watching, I shove Glimmer's face hard against the now screaming pledge. Her arms flail wildly at her sides as her lungs begin to spaz from lack of oxygen. When I let her free, decadent blood coats her mouth as well as her prey's slick wet pussy. I'm not sure whose the blood is, but the effect is just the same - hot.

My desire is up, spilling through the pit of my stomach in a deep and tortuous pressure. "Oh grow up!" I snap at Glimmer as she growls a thick angry snarl. I don't care how pissed she is whatever she decides to throw my way, I can take it.

Her tongue seems to have been tied somewhere along the way and she sounds upset, pained and utterly out of breath. "You grow up!" she responds fiercely and I have to roll my eyes at it. Has she not been taught better comebacks? "You'll be lucky if they don't disqualify you for attacking me! It's against the rules, you know!"

Yes I know, but does what happened even count as maiming? I know it's not permitted, though in all the recaps of previous games, I've never seen that rule put to good use. One of my nails digs against my jaw as I try to ponder, thoughtfully. I give it up, after a second. Though not before there's an angry red line on my chin and my flesh tingles pleasantly.

"Yeah, maybe they'll stop to consider that if you continue to screech like a harpy-" however, I don't have time to finish the sentence.

Because her hand flies across the air, slapping me so hard my cheek stings red, I almost wish she'd do it again just so I'll become even more wet between my legs. For what feels like the millionth time, I chiddingly remind myself that this is not about my needs, but hers. I will not be receiving any kind of pleasure until the end...until I win and get my pick of the masculine litter.

Alas, for that to happen, I will first need to find a way of getting rid of these two idiots splayed beside me.

"You're such a bitch." A couple moments go by with Glimmer glaring at me furiously at me. She reminds me more and more of a snake, with her eyes down to shockingly bright emerald slits and her expression one of intense ire. It doesn't faze me, on the contrary, knowing I'm the one behind it causes the lustful fire burning within my stomach to erupt. My hands tremble, itching to dip my fingers in that beautiful bright blood coating her lips. Oh, if it weren't for these Games, I would be definitely be taking action.

"Oh I know I am." Ignoring how it annoys her - I'm far from fearful - my mouth stretches on a tell-tale grin, smug and wide. The blood, thick crimson liquid is peppered across her cheeks, almost unnaturally bright; when her fingertips brush over the skin, it smears all the way up through the bridge of her nose and jaw, tempting me to reach out for it. I'm sure that is her intent, but I'm stronger.

I try to focus on something else, and push my weapon into view, its threatening spiked black glistening under the light. "Aren't you going to finish what you started?" I purr knowingly, alternating between taking in the blonde before me and the girl who still lays, panting wildly, tied to the bedpost.

The red haired girl is trying to say something but Glimmer's bloodied palm falls flat on her mouth. She's a goner. They all are, and I almost feel sorry for them and their pathetic endeavors before realizing that they aren't worthy of the dirt beneath my feet let alone my pity.

"Yes," her nod is jerky and insubstantial, "But go ahead, let's see if you can do it." Her voice is a touch too sweet, too obviously fake. Glimmer's facade is easily seen through but this is a challenge. Unlike Cato, I'm not stupid to just dive in and face anything thrown my way, carefulness comes with the training, though this is a task I am content to oblige with. Besides, Glimmer can go die in hell for all I care. She probably only wants me to do this because obviously, she was having difficulties.

"Hold her still." I announce, smoothly running the tips of my fingers across the girl's sides, watching her unadmirable face closely.. If I just get rid of this excuse for a tribute, which I'm sure I can easily do, then I can dispatch Glimmer all within the hour.

Her skin is soft and velvety and I find myself wondering about what kind of beauty products she might have used on it. I've never been allowed such an amenity back on Two, and a tendril of fury blazes through my chest at her fortune. I don't care, however, and my nails dig into the flesh of her hips, earning a throaty groan and a flinch. She tries to scramble away, but to my delight it only causes bruises to purple her tied limbs.

I realize that pain is not going to win me this battle. So, before anything else can happen, I kneel between the girl's legs and my lips twitch in a growing smirk. Her horrorized expression quickly turns into one of scorching bliss as I drag my tongue across her abdomen.

Although I despise the gentleness, her pleasure will earn me my victory, so I continue, slowly drawing lower, nibbling on every inch of her flushed, warm flesh until she is positively writhing under my body. Due to my lithe build, it'd be difficult for me to hold her down, but Glimmer's two hands are now firm on her thighs, and hold them tight onto the bed, parting her open just for me.

Glimmer's weapon is far more useful than mine, in this situation. Pink, glittery and long, her vibrator rests still a couple feet away from me, on the bed. My palm grazes over it, feeling its plastic smooth surface. It wriggles smoothly against my palm as I snatch it off the bed. Glimmer's green snake eyes turn to slits, but she does not start bitching, though I can tell she's biting the inside of her cheek as she watches me trail the sparkly tip over the girl's petite form.

Brown eyes bulge from her heart shaped face, red tendrils fly wildly over Glimmer's arm as she shakes her head 'no', I love the look of terror plainly written all over her face. She's a scared little thing, trembling with chilled flesh and it only raises my excitement as I plunge the pink device to its hilt. Her scream is muffled against Glimmer's palm.

Eating carpet is not for me and I am glad the girl has been shaved clean. Blood still coats her sex lending me the reason to push my lips against her clit. The peculiar and salty zest of blood floods my whole self instantly, driving my actions. As my mouth sinks further against her flesh and my tongue toys with the little nub that is her clit, I ease the toy inside of her again, aware of the reaction that is soon to follow. I wasn't wrong to think she might enjoy this and feel her muscles tighten under both my fingertips and my mouth when the toy finally builds up an explosive pressure deep within her womb.

Glimmer releases her hold and my ears fill with the cries of her pleasure coating the air around us. Her body is limp, overly sensitive and just to satisfy my needs, I wrack my sharp nails over her thighs, grinning wickedly as she squirms moaning louder.

"Aww, you didn't think you'd get away so easily, right?" I hear Glimmer call from somewhere over me.

Although Glimmer's hand has long since left the weakling's mouth, she seems incapable of producing any sort of coherent sentence, and simply gasps, shaking her head wildly from left to right. Sinking the vibrator deeper inside of her, it only takes me a couple of skillful, precise strokes to have her arching back onto the mattress, babbling something. I can not understand a word edgewise and end up impaling the toy deeper within her sex. I push myself half an inch back and my eyes dart to her form, observing, as her fingers grasp the sheets in some desperate half-assed attempt to remain on solid ground.

Within mere seconds of working on keeping a swift and steady rhythm, pounding the toy in and out of her slick orifice, the nameless girl loses it. Oh I'm sure she has a name, I just can't find it in me to care for her weakness. Have these women not trained at all? She's so close, on the brink of such an intense orgasm that I can feel its glow before it even happens. Her every muscle tenses and trembles under my touch, quivering madly, clenching down on the toy so that its movements slow down to a halt. Despite my own strength I can barely push in these final strokes which finally cause her to erupt.

With one final hot press of my tongue on her trembling clit, I push myself back, just in time for watching the girl's maddening reaction. Oh, how I want to be able to explode like that. I can't, not yet.

"Enjoyed it?" I leer mockingly at her terrorized face and push the toy off her now forcibly relaxed body, throwing it somewhere nearby.

It takes a few minutes for her to realize just what has happened before tears roll down her cheeks in thick rivulets. Glimmer is untying her, but she's not moving aside from her jerking shoulders as she sobs quietly. A large naked man appears in the corner of my vision, and like a silent predator, he removes her from the bed. She doesn't even fight as he carries her away.

Despite its usefulness, I certainly don't fancy its colour or use, so Glimmer can have the horrible thing back now, not that it will help her for much longer, not when I know she will be the next to go.

I will have to find a way of dispatching the voluptuous blonde sitting next to me as well. As if she reads my mind, she lunges for the pink device, grabbing it up and puckering her lips to the tip. "You made a big mistake bitch, don't think for one second I don't know what gets you off."

"Is that so?" I crawl my way across the bed, suddenly interested in just what she could possibly think can get me off. She takes my advance, and begins moving toward me. I can't get the image of two lionesses ready to maul each other from my mind as she snarls quite deliciously.

Pausing mere centimeters from my face, she catches me in a staring contest I'm not sure will ever end until she licks a still wet splash of blood from her plump bottom lip before pushing them against mine. Like sweet copper, her tongue rolls over mine and before I can stop myself I react, nipping and her succling her lip til I feel the heat rushing there. Soft and heady her whimper runs through my mind like a drug, oh what I'd give to have her screaming.

When she pulls away, her mouth is swollen and bruised, "Oh yes, trust me. I know just what you like." Her snarky attitude only raises my desire to tame her, to show her just who the master is, but I can't release my wants right now. Again I remind myself, this is about what satisfies her.

"Don't think you know me so well." As much as I'd like to bite and maul her, I instead brush a light kiss over her pulse, delighting in the way she shudders from the simple touch. It's almost sickening how gentle I am with her as I slide the tips of my fingers along her shoulders, tracing the line of her bones and tendons as her breath pitches.

I lean against her, running my flesh over hers until she falls back with a gasp to the silk lined bed. A sharp, all too delicious, pain runs up the back of my thigh as a small moan fleas my lips. Her nails are sharp, I love them, but the cacophony of sensations fraying my nerves I simply can not allow.

Wishing for a distraction, for her and myself, I run my tongue over her ear, a gentle curve and as she groans from it, her grip on my thigh draws blood. We're both enjoying this far too much. I don't think either of us are going to be giving in anytime soon.

I run my legs against hers, drawing them up and down like satin ribbons. My thighs are apart, my pussy exposed, and maybe if I'd remembered the toy in her left hand sooner I would have closed it, but now it is far too late. I feel her shift, the pink dildo's tip still gleaming with the redhead's sticky sweet come rams into my vagina, hard enough to make me cry out.

There's a smug grin on her face, but it quickly disappears as I work my muscles, pushing the device out with a wet plop between our legs. The little circle her mouth makes has me laughing. I can't help it, she's just too naive. I kiss her again, flicking both her nipples playfully at once, "You'll have to do better than that sweetie."

It's glorious, the anger in her eyes as I narrowly escape her teeth trying to cut into my tongue. The loops still hanging off the bedposts are like a saving grace, and quickly before she can gather her thoughts, I have her wrists ensnared.

"You fucking bitch!" She bucks against me, spits in my face, and all I can manage is a laugh. The girl is so doomed, I'm not sure why she's bothering with fighting her futile end. She knows I'm going to make her come, I can see it in her eyes, the way they've morphed from a snakes to a gazelles, frantically scared.

"Oh shut up, won't you." I brush my fingers over her cheek as she threatens a bite.

"You're not going to win you stupid bitch! There's no way in Hell you'll win!"

"Just you watch me...oh wait, you can't. You'll be lying in a hospital bed recovering from surgery. So many things will be removed for your lack of superiority." I kiss down her chest, nipping her breasts with a laugh as she fights the bindings.

Her stomach is flat and tastes strangely of strawberries as I make my way down to her already wet vagina. I trace the edge of her labia, "These I think you'll get to keep, but this..." My finger slips through the slit, her clit just below. I roll my finger over the sensitive bead, "This will definitely have to go."

Before she can manage to further curse me, I taste her, twisting my tongue just enough to make her groan. The sheet pulls off the edge of the bed as she clenches the fabric in angry fists. Her vibrator is sitting prettily right between her legs, so close to her vagina it's not even funny.

For some reason it's a little heavier in my palm than the first time I used it, but obviously that's just a trick of my mind. God I'm so looking forward to making this stupid girl come. Easily it slides inside her tight hole, her muscles are tense around the device as she tries to force it back out, but she hasn't worked them out like I have. I push a little harder, grinding against the deepest part of her and she moans out obscenities.

Slowly, I work her, in and out, pumping the glittery toy as the pressure builds. Her legs squirm beneath my ass, but it doesn't really matter. I can feel her cervix spasming beneath my palm as I push on her mound. But as to what will shove her over the edge, I'm not entirely sure.

Holding the toy to its hilt inside her tight pussy, I crawl my way up, using my legs to hold hers to the mattress. Feather light, I graze her stomach with my lips while tickling her sides. Her breath hitches, and she growls something akin to calling me a whore.

"It'll all be over soon Glimmer, just give in to it." I whisper against her navel and use my tongue to trail a wet path to her breasts. They bounce in tandem with her constant struggle. Releasing her left leg, I use my knee to push the vibrator deeper inside her slick hole, grinding it in until she moans a rough and ragged pant.

Her bindings give her just enough room to grip tight to my hair, pulling it roughly, but I only giggle, enjoying the searing pain in my scalp. I suckle the side of her breast rolling my tongue over smooth supple flesh, kneading the other like a fresh slab of clay.

"God." She pants, her fingers going limp in my hair. I hold back a whimper, I rather liked her feisty attitude, but this... I suppose it's what I've worked so hard for. Sliding my leg over her hip, I let the heat radiate between us. My fingers slip around the dildo, the slick come already thoroughly coating it makes the grip rather loose, but as I begin the torturously slow pumping, I know it won't even matter. She's putty in my hands.

Her nipple is erect in my mouth, pink and rosey. Using my teeth rather carefully, I gently nibble, listening for the slight punctuation to her cries. "Oh God." There it is, I increase the speed in which I thrust her toy deep within her pitifully wet core. She's screaming out in everyway for release, and I do so plan to give it to her as I pump a steady rhythm.

I feel her toes curling near mine. Pinching her nipple hard while circling the other, I give one quick deep thrust as feel her come slather my palm. She screams my name to the heavens, and I can admit, I rather like the way it sounds on the tip of her tongue, so I keep pumping.

Her green eyes stare back at me, glossy with more emotions than I can count, and I lean up, quite surprised by my own actions. Plush, soft... gently I kiss her, enjoying the taste of her tears mingling with our saliva. I can feel it as she comes again, and I let her ride the wave, loving the vibrations of her cries in my throat.

When it's all over, she's not the only one panting for air. My nose is cold on her cheek, but she doesn't seem to mind. I think... that part of me likes this girl, I almost wish we could have more time together, involving my coming as well - especially when she grips tight to my hair again and bites my lip till it bleeds - but it doesn't really matter. This is all just a game after all.


	9. NOTE

This story is now forever discontinued, but I will be keeping it up here.

Thank you for understanding.


End file.
